from the old world to the new. Cogline had been the last of
what once was, and he would have understood that the inevi-
tability of change was the sole constant of life.
“So the black things are really gone,” Many Roh said sud-
denly, as if needing confirmation, not looking at anyone as she
spoke.
“The Shadowen are gone,” Walker Boh assured her. He
paused, looking down. “But the magic that sustained them re-
mains. Do not forget that.”
Damson stirred then, and they went to see that she was all
right. Overhead, the sunlight brightened through the early haze,
and the air began to turn hot and sticky. On the flats below, the
remains of Southwatch shimmered and steamed in the swelter,
and after a time took on the appearance of a mirage.
Midday came and went as the company rested within the
cool of the mountain trees. Damson woke from her slumber to
eat and drink, then closed her eyes once more. She would heal
quickly. Walker Boh observed. She would be well again soon.
They fell asleep after that, drifting off one by one, smelling
wildflowers and fresh grasses, comforted by the forest silence.
Exhaustion might have claimed them, but Par thought after-
ward it must have been something more. He dreamed that
Walker spoke to each of them as they slept, telling them
that they should remember what he had said about the
magic, that they should remember its importance to the land.
What part of the magic they kept with them—and here he
spoke mostly to Par—they must ward carefully against misuse
and neglect. Keep it safe for when it was needed; hold it in
trust for when it must be used. He touched them each in some
The Talismans of Shannara 437
way that was not immediately recognizable, passing among
them silently, soundlessly, leaving them rested and at peace.
He changed in appearance as he went, looking at times like
Walker and at other times like Allanon. He took from Coil the
Sword of Shannara. So that it will not be lost again, he ex-
plained. Coil did not object, nor did anyone. The Sword did
not really belong to them. The Sword belonged to the Four
Lands.
Then Walker began to fade away like a shadow in sunlight.
I must leave you now, he told them, for my healing requires
the Druid Sleep.
When they awoke again it was late afternoon, the sky turn-
ing purple and crimson, the forest hushed and cool and still.
Walker Boh was gone, and they knew without being told that
he was not coming back to them.
Moments later Elven Wing Riders and their Rocs appeared
out of the fading sunlight west bearing Wren and Padishar and
the others who had fought at the Valley of Rhenn, and it was
rime for the explanations to begin again.
XXXVII
Time passed, and summer turned to autumn. The midyear
heat gave way grudgingly, the days cooling, becoming
shorter and somehow more precious at the prospect of
winter’s coming. Wildflowers faded and leaves began to turn,
and one set of colors replaced another. Birds flew south, and
the winds out of the mountains grew cold. The light turned
hazy and slow and seemed to drift out of the sky in deep, soft,
silent layers that comforted like down.
Coil Ohmsford went home to Shady Vale to make certain
Jaralan and Mirianna were safe and was surprised to discover
that the Federation had lost interest weeks ago, abandoning the
village and the elder Ohmsfords for more pressing concerns.
The reunion was a joyful one, and Coil was quick to promise
that he would not be traveling again for a long time.
Par Ohmsford and Damson Rhee journeyed north to Tyrsis
and stayed long enough to determine that the Mole had indeed
survived the Shadowen hunt to destroy him. Then they re-
turned to Shady Vale to collect Coll. Par was already planning
what they would do next. The three of them would open an
inn somewhere north in one of the border cities of Callahorn
where they would serve good food, provide a comfortable
night’s lodging, and on occasion entertain customers with sto-